


Tiger, Burning Bright

by Dawnwind



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 14:33:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawnwind/pseuds/Dawnwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scene for <i>It's Only a Beautiful Picture</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Tiger, Burning Bright

Tiger, Burning Bright  
By Dawnwind

Hearing Doyle cackle like an insane hyena put Bodie in a very perverse frame of mind. _Irreverent bugger!_ He’d been on his own, wrestling with vicious dogs and murderous aristocracy while all Ray had had to do was disable the plane.

Being carted off by the village coppers was demoralizing—if Murphy or Anson got wind of this, he’d never hear the end of it. Bodie opened his mouth to protest his impending arrest, trying to twist away from the officer.

“Oi!” Doyle called from behind. “Leave off, he’s mine.”

“Detective Constable Doyle…” Ralston started, then corrected himself. “Mr Doyle, you claimed you had no orders for me.” He frowned, halting the officer towing Bodie, obviously caught between two versions of Doyle: the one he’d gleaned from Cowley’s faked paperwork and the government agent.

“We’re partners at CI5,” Bodie established firmly. Although he would never admit it to Doyle, he rather fancied Ray calling him ‘mine.”

“Give us the key, there’s my order, Inspector,” Doyle said. “And go round up Sangster’s mob. Mind the fire—we’ll need the brigade in here.”

“Yes, sir.” He looked considerably put out, and tossed the key at Doyle.

“Didn’t know you went in with the s and m crowd,” Doyle commented with a slow, sultry appraisal of Bodie standing there in the middle of the landing strip. He smiled lazily.

“You reek of petrol.” Bodie inhaled deeply, holding out his hands for Doyle to remove the cuffs. 

“Doused the entire area. Nearly went up in flames saving your dodgy hide,” Doyle groused, inserting the key to free his partner. “Burnt my hand in defense of Queen and country, and where does it get me?”

“That mad dog practically took me arm off!” Bodie countered. “You had the easy job.” He rubbed his wrists when the cuffs fell away, glancing over his shoulder at the chaos behind them.

Local police were loading Jeremy Sangster and his lady friend into a panda car. The fire Doyle’d started had engulfed Sangster Imports. Heat from the blaze was beginning to melt the macadam and the whole air strip was uncomfortably hot. Some brave soul had chained up Armitage’s dog, but the Rottweiler was barking unceasingly, his fangs bared. Bodie didn’t envy the animal control officer who’d have to deal with that beast. A fire truck roared in, siren whooping, sending the lone copper trying to hose down the flames running for safety.

No-one was paying a bit of attention to him and Doyle. He sniffed again, leaning into Doyle’s shoulder. “Nope, you smell of petrol. I like it.”

“You would.” Doyle wrinkled his nose. “Turns my stomach.”

“Did you know that there are two sorts of people?” Bodie caught Doyle’s right hand in his, running his thumb along a bright red singe mark on Doyle’s palm. “Some find odours such as petrol and indelible markers quite pleasant, and then there’s your kind.”

“Who don’t,” Doyle exhaled, his breath hot on Bodie’s cheek.

Their closeness was intoxicating and it wasn’t the fumes from the petrol that tightened Bodie’s chest. This had been a close call for both of them. He wanted to peel those clothes off Doyle and fumigate him thoroughly.

“I’d go as far to say that petrol could be a potent aphrodisiac,” Bodie whispered wickedly in Doyle’s ear, taking a step away as Ralston approached carrying a heavy wooden crate marked fragile. “May never be able to go to a BP station to fill up the Capri without thinking of you.”

“You’re mental,” Doyle hissed, shoving his hands into his leather jacket pockets as if fending off any untoward advances in public.

“Just concerned with your safety, Raymond,” Bodie said virtuously. “There’s no doctor in sight. Should I examine you for -- crispy bits?”

Doyle whipped his head around, his eyes wide with a mixture of consternation and outraged arousal. “Are you sure that dog didn’t bite you?” he snapped, showing his own teeth.

“Not a mark on me. Rabies is exceedingly rare in England.” Bodie raised an eyebrow, nodding genially at Ralston. “This the straiton four?” he asked.

“I’ve been told to deliver it to you,” Ralston said stiffly, with a spiteful look in Doyle’s direction. He placed the box on the ground.

“Ta,” Bodie grinned, greatly amused at Doyle’s mounting annoyance. This was fun, even if he’d have to wait for hours to get Ray naked.

“Were you aware that rabies is commonly called hydrophobia?” Doyle told him loftily when Ralston walked away. “You’ve always claimed I run hot and you’re cool, Bodie. We’re fire and water. I’ll burn you alive.”

“Light my fire, Jim Morrison,” Bodie hummed the Doors’ signature song.

FIN


End file.
